Atypical Heiress: The Penelope Marino Story

One

I stirred my cocktail with the ridiculous umbrella it was adorned with and let out a sigh. I detested events like this but Serena, my current stepmother, insisted that I attend. And of course my father didn't have the balls to tell her no; He can never say no when it comes to her. So there I was, sitting at the bar, wasting my perfectly good Friday night schmoozing investors. I could have been back at the office doing real work but, no.

"You could at least pretend to be enjoying yourself, Penelope."

I looked up and saw Marcus, my secretary and best friend since childhood and smiled.

"Why should I do that? And since when do you call me Penelope?" I asked, wrinkling my nose with distaste.

"I should be calling you Miss Marino since this is technically a work function." He signaled to the bartender for a beer and sat down next to me. "And you should pretend to enjoy yourself because this room is full of wealthy people eager to invest in the company. A company that you will inherit someday. I would think you would have a vested interest in that."

I snorted. "Isn't that Serena's job? To be the socialite? That's why my father married her. If he wanted a socialite daughter, he would have raised me to be one. But he didn't."

"You're right," Marcus nodded in agreement. "He raised a cold-hearted, ruthless bit-- I mean business woman."

I smiled. "Exactly. Half of these people don't even know who I am."

"Are you kidding?" Marcus said in disbelief. "Everyone knows who you are! At 26, you're not only the youngest CFO in the company's history, you're also the first woman to hold the position. You were on the cover of Forbes last month! And aside from that, have you forgotten that you're an heiress?"

"Whatever. This is Serena's thing. You know this whole scene was never for me--oh shit here she comes."

The smile fell from my face as I watched Serena strut over to me in a long, fitted black dress. As much as she irritated me I had to give it to her, she was a force to be reckoned with. My father's marriage to Serena had lasted longer than any of his other relationships, marriage or otherwise. At thirty-five, she was only ten years older than me.

She met my father at an charity event during her reign as Miss Colombia. They dated in secret for two years because as Miss Colombia, and subsequently Miss Universe, she wasn't allowed to date. The day after she handed over her crown, my father proposed. She was twenty-four. My father was fifty-five. Their wedding was the most obnoxious display of opulence I have ever seen in my life. It was held at a castle in Italy that belongs to my father's family. They flew in over three hundred guests and the celebration lasted an entire week. Like any other sane fourteen year old girl who had already been through four step mothers, I refused to participate in the festivities. I locked myself in the tower I was staying in and wouldn't come out until my father threatened to disinherit me. You can't really blame me though; I was stubborn, not stupid.

Over the years, I came to respect Serena. Unlike the previous bimbos my father had married, Serena was intelligent and cultured. She wasn't just a pretty face. She was witty and had a knack for reading people that often came in handy.

Despite all of her good qualities, she was incredibly annoying, hence my reaction to her walking up to me at the bar that night. "Mi hija preciosa! Why are you just sitting over here?" she asked me in heavily accented English, engulfing me in a suffocating hug.

I rolled my eyes. Hija. I am not her daughter.

"Hey Serena," I said when she finally released me. "I'm sitting here because I didn't want to come to this event in the first place, remember? And then you forced my father to make me come here?"